


They Are A Wildfire

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Partners, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Choking, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 11:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: People liked to think that they had a handle on who Ten and Sicheng were, but they really had no clue. See, when they had been partnered off as Aurors, everyone expected Chittaphon, street name Ten, to be the chaotic one and Sicheng, street name Winwin, to be the quiet, restrained one, when really, the truth was they were both batshit— just different levels of it.





	They Are A Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [10softbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/gifts), [taeyongseo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyongseo/gifts).



> I had written this just as part of a Drabble challenge at the request of Erin, but decided to expand on it a little bit so I could gift it to her properly. 
> 
> I ran the idea by Carly, and she gave me the encouragement to go for it. 
> 
> So this one is for them. 
> 
> Here’s to Germany. 
> 
> -
> 
> This is so unbelievably unbetaed and isn’t very coherent, but I hope it’s still something sorta up your alley.

People liked to think that they had a handle on who Ten and Sicheng were, but they really had no clue. See, when they had been partnered off as Aurors, everyone expected Chittaphon, street name Ten, to be the chaotic one and Sicheng, street name Winwin, to be the quiet, restrained one, when really, the truth was they were both batshit— just different levels of it.

It stresses Johnny out endlessly when he sends them off on missions and they end up coming back with the job done, minimal collateral damage to everyone else but themselves.

Sicheng had ended up in St. Neo’s Hospital for a three days once because he and Ten had decided to rush headlong into a raid full of the saddest Death Eater wannabes they’d ever encountered since the early years after the war, completely underestimating their spunk and getting blasted with several curses all at once.

(Sicheng had gotten a mandatory two weeks off.)

(Ten had spent one out of those two weeks having his way with him.)

They had known then that it was equally as reckless that not only were they two halves of the same coin when it came to their work, they were also fucking. They fucked a lot.

When it had started, Ten had told himself it was just a matter of getting it out of their system— long nights on stake outs, months of having to share tents, missions that involved pretending to be husbands. Every Muggle and magical espionage trope, they lived it. So it was only natural that their years of sparring and duelling led to heavy making out in the locker rooms and eventually a lot of heavy panting and rough sex in Sicheng’s fancy three-bedroom apartment, and Ten’s uptown loft.

But then Sicheng had gone and fallen in love with Ten, and Ten had had this huge commitment panic about how they would change if they made things official, and Sicheng had been so fucking nice about it. Ten’s heart broke, and then Sicheng had nearly died on a mission without Ten by his side and that settled it pretty much: Ten could not lose him, and he didn’t trust Sicheng in anyone else’s hands but his own.

As such, Ten had in fact be right about them changing once they made it official. They learned to start being (and the word always made Sicheng shudder) careful. They started taking less risks while on missions, and taking Johnny’s advice when it came to planning them out.

It disgusted the two of them, how boring they’d become since they knew they had more at stake. God, did they miss the thrill of it. It’s been months since they started playing it safe.

  
-

“We could get arrested for this,” Ten hisses from his spot under a grimy window, his wand at the ready.

Sicheng is peering in through the glass, watching four figures in mahogany robes moving around in the room.

“We are the ones who do the arresting, Tennie,” Sicheng responds, starting to roll his button down’s sleeves up under his Auror’s uniform.

“Yeah, but I don’t want Johnny to come arrest us if he catches wind that we’re straying from protocol,” Ten says through gritted teeth while begrudgingly doing the same.

“Listen, just trust me on this one, okay?” Sicheng replies, and his eyes are glinting in the low light. Fuck, that’s the shit that turns Ten on to no end.

“Okay.”

Ten knows without knowing how he does, just exactly how to move when Sicheng makes his break through the glass. It’s noisy and lacks their usual finesse from their glory days but it also makes the thrill spike through both their veins, adrenaline amping up to 100% when they both rush through and catch the dark wizards off-guard.

Back in Auror training, all the way back when they had first been paired off to show some basic duelling, Ten had hit Sicheng with a stunning spell in 3.4 seconds flat, but somehow, Sicheng had managed a way out of it, something that had left the room stunned, and Ten infuriated.

Now though, with them paired up and on the same side of a duel, it’s a dance. It’s all a dance. Sicheng is smooth, arching strokes through the air; Ten is hard, precise movements. You’d think there was music playing, the way they move together, a synergy that causes destruction in a way so devastatingly beautiful, most people are left completely paralysed just by watching them.

There’s no time for backup when seven more of the robed wizards make their way into the dingy room, but it doesn’t matter. Time slows to the millisecond as Ten and Sicheng throw curse after curse, hitting each of their targets right where it hurts, until a stray one grazes Ten’s cheek, slicing the skin open and making him hiss through the sting of it. Blood trickles down immediately as he brings his hand to the gash, but Sicheng isn’t fazed. He knows that this is what spurs his boyfriend on even further when they’re at it.

This is the rush they’ve both been looking for, it seems, and it’s exhilarating in its intoxication, the distillation of their years of training on the field, hours and hours of spellwork and basic curse-breaking and protective incantations that have led up to every skirmish they’ve thrown themselves into, every mission report they’ve handed in after recovery.

The hooded men drop like flies around them. Sicheng’s breath comes out in small huffs, and Ten’s wand arm drops to his side before laughter bubbles up from inside of his chest and out of his mouth. Dust settles over the stunned bodies, and Sicheng side-steps sevel puddles of blood. Ten smirks in his direction, and says, “Johnny is gonna be so, so angry at--”

“WINWIN. TEN.”

Johnny’s booming voice emanates through the warehouse hallway that they’ve found themselves in, and it makes Sicheng laugh, because boy, they had missed this too. Ten smacks him on the arm before they make their way out to meet their fuming boss.

They find out later that the ring of dark wizards they had taken down on this particular job had had deeper roots in a faction in the greater part of Southeast Asia, which was an offshoot off of a wizard ring from Great Britain. It frustrates the entirety of both the Aurors and the Unspeakables when shit like this happens because it always ends up feeling like a hydra situation where whenever they clean up one mess, another three pop up in their place.

“Fucking Gridnelwald,” Ten says, after Johnny is done chewing them out in his office for breaking protocol again and has sent them both out with strict instructions to get assessment for any trace magical damages and clearance from Kun before being allowed on active duty again. “Fucking Voldemort.”

“Listen, we wouldn’t have jobs if everything was peachy clean in the world, Tennie,” Sicheng says, as they walk over to their respective desks to pull out the mountain of forms that they’ll have to fill out as a case report. They never go home anymore without getting those done, because ever since Johnny had married Taeyong, he’d become a massive stickler for getting shit like paperwork done on time, and subsequently, a massive pain in the ass for both Ten and Sicheng.

(This is not to say of course that they didn’t love Johnny, or vice versa. They all had so much history between everyone in their friend group that it was hard to let things like blatant disregard for protocol and casual life-risking behaviour to get in the way of their friendship.)

“That’s kind of a fucked up way of looking at things, Sicheng,” Ten replies, deadpan, before throwing himself into his seat and hunching over to rest his head on the wooden desk. “But yeah, I get it. It’s just exhausting. Always just with the world domination stuff. It’s so tedious.”

Sicheng hums in agreement, knowing that Ten always gets riled up when it’s a mission that traces back to Voldemort in one way or another. It’s been almost ten years since, but every day it still feels so much like the war that had spread far beyond the borders of Hogwarts still seeps into so much of their daily lives that it’s hard to believe that the worst has gone.

It’s nearly dawn when they finish all that they need to do, which is par for the course really in their line of work, but their respective case reports are signed, sealed and delivered to Johnny’s desk just as the sun begins to breaks the horizon, casting pink and purple onto a slowly lightening sky.

They pack up their things, take their dusty robes off of the backs of their seats, and head out the door towards the elevators.

The exhaustion is starting to seep into Sicheng’s back, Ten can tell from the curve and slump of his boyfriend’s shoulders, and he brings a hand to rub against the breadth of Sicheng’s upper back just as the elevator makes it rumbling descent toward the Atrium.

There’s an Apparition point near a cafe they used to frequent back when they were in training, this quaint little shop run by an old man in his 70’s who always gave them extra little bits of chocolate whenever they popped in for tea or coffee. They walk hand in hand towards the street corner, the cafe still shuttered so early in the morning.

Barely anyone is out on the street this early, just a few passers-by and a couple walking their dog. It’s been a while since Sicheng and Ten have greeted sunrise to head home from work.

Sicheng turns to look at Ten’s profile, his boyfriend squinting somewhat in the rising brightness of the day, and he’s overcome with longing and an unnamable rush of something that feels very much like elation, like he’s being dragged under the influence of amortentia.

“How tired are you?” Sicheng asks as they step onto the small patch of grass behind the cafe, hands clasped together to prepare for their trip.

“What are you thinking, Sicheng?” Ten says, his small smirk back in place.

“I’m thinking I want to eat you up,” Sicheng says nonchalantly as they begin to spin.

There is only a small ruffle of dewy grass that moves for a few seconds, the only indication that there had ever been a disturbance in the air at all just seconds prior.

-

Sicheng and Ten are known for their fire. Neither of them knew the meaning of temperance until they fell in love with each other, and even then, the fire translated into something else depending on where they were. On the field, it meant results and another successful recon mission or hostage retrieval at the end of the day.

In private— well.

There’s no preamble to how Ten presses Sicheng up against the door the moment they get past the wards of their shared apartment. He’s on his knees in a second, and his hands are on Sicheng’s belt buckle in the next, deft fingers undoing the clinking silver and the noisy zipper, trying to be gentle despite the difficulty he faces trying to bring the tab down over Sicheng’s aching erection that is straining his trousers.

When Ten manages to free Sicheng’s cock, his mouth fills with saliva, not realising how much he had missed this: the kind of sex they used to have that came on the heels of a reckless, absolutely insane mission. All he knows is his hunger, and when he brings his tongue out to lick over the head of Sicheng’s cock, he knows that it’s all Sicheng can feel, too.

Ten works the slit over Sicheng’s dick, the tip of his tongue sliding through the precum that’s gathered there, small kitten licks that make Sicheng buck his hips forward while Ten strokes him from the base, twisting his way upward, never taking his eyes off of Sicheng.

Sicheng loves Ten like this, loves when he’s completely at Ten’s mercy, left to bide his time while Ten decides how much control he’s willing to hand over to Sicheng. Ten’s lips close over the head of his cock and Sicheng doesn’t bother holding back, knows that Ten loves it when he fucks his mouth, when Sicheng makes him gag.

Ten takes him fully in his mouth, and the slide of it, the pressure on the underside of Sicheng’s cock where Ten has flattened his tongue, makes Sicheng see stars.

“Fuck,” Sicheng hisses through his teeth as Ten swallows him to the point where he knows he’s hitting the back of Ten’s throat. Ten makes an aborted sound, a small choking noise that makes Sicheng look down where Ten is staring up at him, eyes filling with tears, cheeks hollowed out from how hard he’s sucking. Sicheng throws his head back against the hard wood of their door when he feels Ten swallow around him, his hips snapping forward to fuck into Ten’s mouth and Ten, fuck, Ten just lets him, has his hands on Sicheng’s ass, holding on while Sicheng continues to move, and it’s almost too much until Ten pulls off, a string of saliva on his lips, lips swollen from Sicheng’s ministrations.

Ten stands to meet him halfway, arms sliding around his shoulders, and Ten’s lips sliding over his, wet and filthy and absolutely delicious. Ten’s tongue is in his mouth and it feels like Ten is the one eating him alive. Sicheng’s entire body is on fire, lit up from head to toe, and it’s what compels him to slide his hands down the length of Ten’s back, over his hips, and lower, down to his thighs-- a command for Ten to take one leg up and around Sicheng’s hip, held in place with his hand, until the other hand takes Ten up to support him. Sicheng then turns to press Ten against the wall, and it makes Ten pull away from their kiss to gasp out when he feels Sicheng’s erection pressing against his ass through his trousers.

“Wait,” Ten pants, chasing his breaths like a drowning man. He sets himself down, unwrapping his legs from Sicheng’s hips and landing lightly on the marble floor, pulling his boyfriend by the hand to the kitchen, undoing the buttons to his dress shirt quickly as he goes, and Sicheng already knows where this is going, how this is going to end, and he feels like he’s going to explode.

Ten stands before him, shirt undone, trousers tented, in front of their new dinner table, a shipment that had come in carved from Bali, gorgeous wood, completely untainted. Ten waits, his hands flat on the surface on either side of him, eyebrow raised.

“You said you wanted to eat me up,” Ten says, and his smile is wicked and sweet, and Sicheng wants to devour him. “So go ahead.”

Sicheng surges forward to capture Ten’s lips in his again, teeth biting down onto the soft of his lower lip, making Ten moan into the kiss, his deft hands flying to Sicheng’s hardness, thumb stroking over the erection that hasn’t waned one bit since they arrived home.

Sicheng makes quick work of Ten’s trousers and underwear, muttering a quick cleaning spell on the both of them before gripping his boyfriend by the hips to make him face the other way, and Ten plants his hands on the shiny wooden surface as Sicheng bends him over, cock slipping against the soft of Ten’s perineum, before lowering his knees to the ground and spreading Ten’s cheeks with his hands.

Sicheng had never cared much for eating anyone out until he met Ten, who absolutely lost his mind whenever Sicheng did it to him. The first time Ten had dared to ask, he had been so shy, daring only to even breach the topic long after Sicheng had first confessed his undying love in the back of a moving armored truck that was taking them into Vienna. It had been admittedly awkward, difficult for him to get comfortable with just the idea of it at the beginning, until he spent an hour on the phone with Taeyong asking very detailed questions about it

And then he had, and Ten had come untouched in nearly twenty seconds flat, and it was the hottest thing Sicheng had ever witnessed in his entire goddamn life. Ten hadn’t even had the chance to be embarrassed about how quickly he had reached his orgasm because after a few minutes of waiting for the tingling in his lips, his scalp, his fingers to recede, he had ridden Sicheng into oblivion before coming all over Sicheng’s chest a second time. It had been the most mind-blowing of his life up until that point.

He has Ten bent in half over the table, tongue slipping over the puckered rim that has Ten groaning into the wooden grain and spreading his legs further apart to grant Sicheng more access, and it’s heaven to Ten, especially when Sicheng reaches in between Ten’s legs to start stroking Ten’s cock which is straining against the edge of the table.

Sicheng’s rough palm stroking against the velvet of Ten’s dick while he feels Sicheng’s tongue begin to push past his tightness has him closer and closer to the brink, and makes Ten attempt to grasp for purchase on the glossy surface of the table. They play this game sometimes, hard strokes to draw it out quickly before someone is gripping the base of their cock to keep from coming too soon. But Ten is impatient, and he wants Sicheng now.

“Please,” Ten whines, eyes screwed shut, trying to focus on holding out despite being past his breaking point already. He can feel saliva trickling down his inner thighs, and it feels so obscene, the longing he has to have Sicheng fill him up and have it slip out of him too.

“What do you want, Tennie?” Sicheng asks, pressing a kiss to the soft of Ten’s ass, then up on the base of his spine.

“I want you to fuck me,” Ten says, rising back up, his back arching beautifully in his ascent, barely catching his breath. “And I want you to choke me.”

The adrenaline that he felt last night at the warehouse mixes with the lust that shoots through his veins when Sicheng hears the second request. God, Ten will be the death of him. No other man, no other wizard or witch or beast. Only Ten.

“What’s our safe word, baby?” Sicheng asks, still stroking Ten’s cock in a loose ring of his fingers as Ten bucks into it.

“Reparo,” Ten says, loud and clear. “Accio lubricant,” he adds, holding his hand out. Sicheng rolls his eyes, pulling himself back to his feet to drape himself over Ten’s back and press his lips to Ten’s hair as the bottle of lubricant whizzes into Ten’s hand.

“I still can’t believe that the first display of wandless magic you ever showed me was this,” Sicheng laughs as Ten hands the bottle over to him. He leans in to whisper into Ten’s ear.

“Are you ready?”

Ten nods, his hands reach up to cradle Sicheng’s head close to him, and Sicheng takes the opportunity to pull on one of Ten’s earrings on his lobe between his teeth, making Ten gasp out, Sicheng’s tongue flicking over the metal and skin there.

There’s a sick sort of satisfaction to watching his lubed finger sink to the heat of Ten’s body that makes Sicheng’s body sing, especially when he’s reduced his gorgeous boyfriend into an incoherent mess, and it doesn’t take long before he’s three fingers deep and Ten is rutting against him, angry mutters of “Hurry the fuck up,” and “I need you in me now, Sicheng,” like they’re young and fresh and completely in denial of their feelings.

But this is a return to their base instincts, back to when all they knew was heady lust and the shot of epinephrine that they both operated on.

Sicheng guides the head of his cock into the pink ring, and sometimes it’s hard for him to believe that they’ve been doing this over a year, that’s how tight Ten is always whenever Sicheng is the one who tops. When he’s fully sheathed, Ten pushes back on him, slender body flush against Sicheng’s bare chest, the white dress shirt Ten still hasn’t taken now falling from his shoulders while Sicheng controls his movements.

It starts out with small thrusts of his hips until Ten starts moaning “Sicheng, fuck baby,” and Sicheng feels like he’s losing all sense of control. He pushes Ten forward, bending him again over the table in half, hands gripping the smaller’s hips tight as he brings himself into Ten’s heat over and over again, Ten’s walls a vice grip on his aching cock.

They had studied this, too, had made sure to try it out in small bursts before going all the way with it. Just three, four seconds of pressure, and release. Sicheng’s chest presses against the smooth planes of Ten’s back as he fucks into him, before taking his right hand to pan over the bones of Ten’s shoulder, over his clavicles, his throat.

Ten loves this. Had discovered it by accident that he did with an old partner who had unfortunately taken it too far. When he feels Sicheng’s hand rest over his throat, he also feels himself harden impossibly even more, because this, this is him handing over control. In this moment, he is being filled over and over by the man he loves. There are no decisions here, only trust and release, and when Sicheng asks again, “Are you ready?” and Ten replies, “Yes,” well, there’s all there is left: trust, and release.

Sicheng presses his thumb and his index finger over the side of Ten’s neck, and the effect is instantaneous, the loss of oxygenated blood to his head making him feel euphoria. Amortentia doesn’t even come close to what he feels as Sicheng alternates a gentle pressure over his blood supply, and when Sicheng’s left hand begins to stroke Ten’s cock in time with his thrusts, Ten has only the hand Sicheng has around his neck to keep him upright.

Sicheng is the only person Ten trusts his body with, trusts that no matter what, the hands that belong to beautiful man making love to him, fucking into him, choking him, hands that he’s seen take man and beast apart, are the same hands that will do everything to protect him, to never hurt him.

Ten’s emotion and control crest just as soon as Sicheng drives into him hard, ramming into the hot, hot heat of Ten’s body and against his prostate, making his cry out “Fuck, fuck, yes,” so loud the whole city can probably hear him, and Sicheng scrapes his teeth on Ten’s helix as he lets go of his hold on Ten’s neck and Ten is spilling over his hand, coating the table with his release.

Sicheng brings his hand to Ten’s open mouth, slipping two fingers into it, Ten using his tongue to clean up the mess. It’s all Sicheng needs to chase his own orgasm, and Ten is giving as good as he gets, filthy words spilling from his mouth, a command, “Fill me up.”

Ten is moaning, “Come inside me.”

And so Sicheng does, hips flush against Ten’s as he feels his cum begin to slip out after ever thrust, and down Ten’s legs that are shaking, barely keeping them upright.

Sicheng wraps his arms around Ten’s waist while Ten props the both of them up with his arms, palms down on the table again, and then Ten is laughing, soft and delicate.

“We’ve ruined the table,” he says, breathless and beautiful.

“You wanted that to happen,” Sicheng says, gingerly pulling out of Ten, muttering another cleaning spell to rid the table of the evidence that they had indeed sullied their latest purchase. Ten can’t quite deny it, if the sheepish grin is anything to go by.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up and sleep for 24 hours,” Sicheng says, dragging Ten to their shared bedroom and into the bathroom where Ten conjures up a bath for the both of them.

-

Ten and Sicheng know that they can be reckless, that they’re both more likely to throw themselves into the flame if it means saving the other, that often the mission takes precedence over their own safety and it makes them seem volatile.

But theirs is a partnership that works, one that matches crazy for crazy, either one taking turns to see who the match and who the flint are. They’re Winwin and Ten, the best partnership the Auror force has seen since Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. They’re a wildfire together, Johnny Suh notwithstanding.

-

Later, years later, when they both decide to hang up their crimson robes to settle down and rest, Johnny gives them a present: a small glass case with a perpetual flame, and a note attached.

‘Don’t you ever forget it.’

It burns bright in their room at night, just as Ten meets Sicheng for a kiss. 


End file.
